Careering Out of Control

In a recent moment of inexplicable self-assurance, I blurted out my intention to run, simultaneously, for president of the United States and prime minister of Canada. It isn’t that I think I could do a better job than either of the two people currently occupying those positions. It’s that I no longer believe anyone could. The complexity of both offices is too great, too entangled with conflicting issues and interests, so that any opinion or position is guaranteed to infuriate half the population. Success shimmers like a mirage, luring novice and veteran alike, but it remains out of reach.

As a result, election night euphoria is always followed by months of second-guessing and disappointment, then years of finger-pointing, accusations, and vague conspiracy theories. In the United States, the new president has barely finished the last dance at the Inaugural Ball when the problems start: the Attorney General has hired a babysitter with an expired green card, or the Secretary of Defense has picked a fight with the King of Norway. In Canada, the prime minister is invariably ensnared in some scandal involving an illegal exchange of money, prompting the opposition parties to express shock and outrage, as though the idea of political corruption had never occurred to them.

Worst of all, when you’re the leader of a government, people make fun of you. It isn’t so bad if you’re a ruthless dictator, because then you can smoke out the critics and hang them from a bridge. But in a democracy, they march right outside your bedroom window, carrying signs and chanting things your kids will have to hear about in school the next day. Comedians imitate the way you talk. Newspaper cartoonists draw pictures of you with big ears or thick eyebrows. Journalists pore over hours of videotape to uncover the most humiliating minute and a half they can find, then show it repeatedly on prime time television, just to make sure everyone notices what an idiot you are.

I’ve come to the inevitable conclusion that it’s impossible to make your way through the process with your reputation and dignity intact. Nevertheless, a few loyal friends have urged me to toss my hat into the ring. It was that very suggestion that told me all I needed to know.

First, I don’t wear hats. I’m not sure if I even own one. Anyway, what ring? What does that mean? Assuming I had a hat, why would I toss it into a ring, and how exactly would such an act convince voters that I would make a good candidate? Tossing your hat sounds like something a child would do. Not only is it immature, but it’s insensitive, especially given all the bareheaded people who are walking around with receding hairlines and sensitive scalps, and who may not have a hat to toss.

For this reason, and several others too embarrassing to discuss in public, I’m officially abandoning my plans to enter politics. I will, instead, continue to do whatever it is I’ve been doing. As long as nobody asks what that is, it won’t be necessary to come up with an explanation for it. Plus, I won’t have to attend Cabinet meetings and pretend I understand that complicated trade agreement we recently hammered out with Brazil — or why trade agreements require hammering at all.

And it isn’t as though I don’t have plenty of other options. In fact, I have a list of alternate professions that seem to call to me whenever I encounter someone working in them.

For example, the guy on the runway at the airport. I can’t remember what the job is called, but you’ve seen him. He’s wearing headphones and holding two colored sticks, and he’s telling the pilots where to steer their huge jumbo jets. It always reminds me of a hamster directing traffic in a stampede of elephants. And even though it appears that he’s making critical, on-the-spot decisions, there’s a really smart person sitting in the tower and talking into his ear, pointing out that a Boeing 767 has just landed and is about to collide with a UPS truck. So he waves his arms and the pilot turns the plane, and three hundred passengers think the man with the sticks is out there controlling everything. I would enjoy almost the same respect as the conductor of the symphony orchestra, and I wouldn’t have to wear a tuxedo.

Then there’s the attendant who delivers extra pillows and towels to hotel rooms. Guests are happy to see him, and he might even get a tip, just for riding an elevator and carrying some linens, which are light and soft. Compare this to the hapless room service person who has to juggle wine glasses and covered dishes of hot food, only to endure endless complaints that the avocado salad is soggy and the cheese platter looks a little skimpy.

My number-one dream career would be steamroller driver. A steamroller, in case you don’t know, is a very heavy piece of construction equipment. Its front and back wheels are giant cylinders, and it’s used to flatten newly-paved roads, as well as annoying cartoon characters. It’s also used metaphorically when a group tries to pass controversial laws, as in: “The bill was steamrolled through Congress.”

I’ve sincerely lost any desire to be either president or prime minister. But if I ever change my mind about politics, I intend to be in charge of steamrolling legislation. When opponents try to get in my way, I’ll be wearing my headphones and waving my sticks. And sooner or later, they’ll be forced to throw in the towel. Maybe I’ll bring them some fresh ones.

Thank you for the Monday laugh. Just be glad you don’t have my job. We’ve been in the news a LOT lately. Being any kind of celebrity must suck, and especially if you are a woman. Every time you leave the house wearing sweats or having a bad hair day, the paparazzi are swarming in the bushes like locusts, waiting to plaster that one hideous photo on the front page of People or US magazine, neither of which I read of course. In the event that you are a politician, News Week will be reviling you underneath an unflattering photo of yourself. Your life becomes an open book and every action or ward-robe choice is scrutinized and then critiqued. Even the most well thought of politician eventually becomes cannon fodder, and everything they do or say is slammed or ridiculed. Yesterday when I was raking up 25 bags of leaves, the knees of my jeans stained and soiled from kneeling on the wet grass, my hair a mess, I thanked the gods that the only one witnessing my disheveled state was Gus, the orange tabby, and my main squeeze. If I was a celebrity and the paparazzi were harassing me, I’d go all Sean Penn on them and they’d rue the day. But I digress. Those dudes at the airport are called “rampies”. Stick with writing my friend. You have real talent.

You have made the right decision,yes be a steamroller with the sticks at least it will make us laugh,the government just takes our money and bullies us.It won’t be fun for you to be a president or a prime minister.Your days would be spent wondering,which middle east country shall I break up?
Thank you for sharing your thoughts,it might help to change the minds of aspiring politicians.

I compare politics to teaching. It would be fun to be in the classroom, helping kids learn — but having to deal with administrators, as well as some of the other teachers, would be a nightmare. The challenge for political leaders is not really the complexity of the issues or the demands of the voters. It’s the system itself, and those esteemed colleagues you have to work with. That’s what I think, anyway.

I’ve been thinking similar thoughts lately for some reason. Not about standing for politics, but rather about the problem of how to run a “participatory” democracy when the issues under consideration are simply too complex to allow the average citizen to really engage in the process of governance and actually participate in any truly meaningful way. No wonder folks are losing interest in the whole concept in such alarming numbers…

I think life has become so complicated that issues are no longer clear or easy to assess. There are so many conflicting variables to sift through, and so many different circumstances, that what’s positive for one person is guaranteed to be negative for someone else. Half the electorate is always upset, and you’re right: they’re losing interest, and hope.

You want to be Da Guy – Da Glowstick Guy! When my son was little, he referred to anyone who was not a family member as Da Guy or Da Guys! Da Glowstick guy was his favorite. That’s what he wanted to be when he grew up — for about 5 years. Da Glowstick Guy. Sadly, he changed his mind and we had to foot the bill for college.

A good friend of mine told me the other day that a few people had said he should go into politics (he’s a sales coach by profession). I told him that’s not really a compliment and he should probably keep that enlightening tidbit to himself. I knew you’d come to your senses too, sooner or later, Charles.

You’re right, Susan. Now that I think about it, whenever someone says, “You should go into politics,” they seem to be saying, “You’re a real con artist with a skill for double-talk and vague nonsense.”

Too painfully true and funny, Charles. You nailed it. As a reporter, I covered many politicians and the criminal justice system. I told my husband that the only difference … theoretically … is, at least with the cops and crooks, you could tell the good guys from the bad guys. Thanks for the chuckles.

Reblogged this on middlekingdom1of10boyz and commented:
I think we have all had nightmares about being in politics. Maybe it is that night you drank too much eggnog and swore that you could do a better job than “whatshername” or “whatshisname”. Then the eggnog reminds you in the middle of the night that the skeletons in your closet aren’t really hiding, they are venturing out into open daylight quite regularly and you know that they don’t deserve any television time. Sometimes I think politicians in general must have suffered brain damage since the rewards for over-exposure in the media certainly aren’t worth it.

I’m amazed all over again every time an elected official ends up in trouble because of some major “error in judgment.” Didn’t they know it would get out and become headline news? And if they didn’t know, what does that say about their ability to understand society, politics, and the way things work?

You could make it as a politician only if all the other politicians were just like you, Charles – people with tremendous compassion, a sense of wonder, self-deprecating and side-splitting humor, and the ability to entertain thousands of people through your words alone. We need politicians like you. I’m less than thrilled with the ones we have. Hey, if all politicians were like you, there wouldn’t be any parties to go to. Keep that in mind.

I’m occasionally tempted, Jean, because I couldn’t possibly do a worse job than most politicians are doing. But then I remember how frustrated I got when I was the assistant coach of my son’s baseball team, or working on some fundraising project at my daughter’s school. I can’t imagine what politics would do to me. But thank you, as always, for the kind thoughts.

A couple years ago I dreamt of becoming the Ruler of the Universe, and at that time you requested a cabinet position in my administration (I believe you even volunteered to become my Ambassador to Italy). After reading this post, I’m left with the assumption that you are no longer interested in those appointments–which is just as well, because since I have retired and have discovered the joy of not being in charge of ANYTHING except myself (and even that responsibility is sometimes delegated), I am no longer interested in being a ruler, either.

But if I’m ever in need of a steamroller driver, I’ll be sure to give you a call.

Was it Ruler of the Universe? And I limited myself to Italy? If you ever reconsider those plans, I’d like to apply for Ambassador to Neptune. There are probably things that need to be steamrolled there, too.

Once upon a time I left A Career in the Real World to become a varnisher. Sometimes, people would ask me how come? I’d tell them that, if I ever want to be in politics again, I’ll run for office. I’ve never had the urge yet, and don’t expect to. Your comment up above about the system eating people up is exactly on target: “The challenge for political leaders is not really the complexity of the issues or the demands of the voters. It’s the system itself, and those esteemed colleagues you have to work with.” Well, and the moneybags you have to play up to, to get the cash to buy all those votes. 😉

Unfortunately, most of the people who would do some good are the ones who don’t go into politics — or who get out pretty quickly. That leaves those who are corruptible, or at least willing to endure the nonsense and non-accomplishment. I suppose the problem can be fixed, but I have no idea how.

I can’t say I’m glad that I won’t get a chance to vote for you. It would have been nice to have some one leading the way with as many questions about stuff as I have. Most of them having nothing to do with running the country, mind you, but they are valid questions.

In my opinion, politician is a profession that requires so much narcissism and egoism that people who succeed in politics are across the board those that are utterly unsuitable to represent anyone but themselves, i.e. bad politicians – the very definition of a catch 22.

On a different note, I am a bit on the fence about your new picture. I appreciate the fact that we all, um, change (in fact, I should probably update my pic at some stage as well), but I kinda liked the contemplative black-and-white guy…

I’ve started to agree with your opinion of politicians. You have to be a certain kind of person to succeed in government, and that isn’t the kind of person I’d want to have in office, making important decisions that affect the lives of millions. Not sure what the answer is, though.